


Run

by papermoon2719



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, NSFW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermoon2719/pseuds/papermoon2719
Summary: You always knew your FWB relationship with Steve would come back to bite you in the ass, but you had no idea it would be in the form of a promise to keep Bucky Barnes safe.





	1. Prologue

“Oh, God, yes,” you moan, fist tightening around Steve’s forearm as he picks up speed. The hand bracing you against the wall flexes, your knuckles going white. Steve pants in your ear, delicious moans and grunts going straight to your cunt, making you clench around him. 

“You gonna come, baby?” he grunts into the skin behind your ear. He licks at the sweat forming there, his hand sliding down to rub harsh circles into your clit. 

“Uh huh,” you manage just before a wanton moan escapes your lips. He bites down on the shell of your ear as your walls clench in orgasm, his own coming a moment later. You gasp as you feel the hot spurts of come filling you, and you lean back to search for Steve's mouth. You find it, teeth and tongues crashing together in a languid dance as you come down from your highs. 

You pull apart after a minute or so, both working to straighten yourselves up as much as possible so your colleagues are less likely to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

You don't speak to each other, making eye contact only to assess each other's state of dress. You straighten Steve's collar and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. It's a gesture that almost feels loving, but you knew better. He doesn't want to get caught almost as much as you wish you would. 

“We should get going,” he mutters, hand falling back to his side. Your heart drops and you nod, watching as he walks over to the door of the closet you’re in. He cracks it open, peering up and down the hallway before motioning for you to follow. You do so, trying not to look too forlorn as the two of you make it into the hangar.

“Where have you two been?” Nat asks, a glint in her eye. You look away, walking over to grab your laptop bag.

“Getting ready. Let’s go,” Steve says, all Captain and no play. You can’t help but think about the growl he let out when he came inside you earlier and suddenly all you can focus on is the feeling of his seed still inside you.

Too bad it won’t do anything, you think, huffing into the Helicarrier. Probably picked the barren girl just so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.

_______________________________________________

The thoughts that plagued your mind for the remainder of that flight seem petty as soon as everything goes to shit. The days that it takes for SHIELD to fall feel like months, each one steadily getting worse. It was halfway through the shitshow that your life had become when Steve made you promise him something. It was after the transport; you had been with Maria and the undead Fury for most of the beginning of SHIELD’s fall. We can save that reunion for another time (there were tears, there was shouting, there was a thrown peach… it was complicated).

You and Maria managed to get aboard that transport, the two of you dressed in those ridiculous outfits. By the time you got back to Fury and had started to devise a plan of action, you and Steve had said exactly zero words to one another. So, when you all break up to prep, you’re surprised when Steve grabs you by the arm and pulls you over to the corner of the cave.

“Bucky’s alive,” he says simply. You gape at him, thinking he may have lost his mind. But then he explains it, telling you about the bridge and the mask. You can’t help but wonder why he’s telling you until he drops it like a ton of bricks on your head.

“I need you to help me get him out and get him safe,” he says. You argued with him, telling him you had no idea how to do that. You’re a hacker, for Pete’s sake. You don’t do combat. Or assassins. Or anything more physical than throwing fruit at Directors who are supposed to be dead. But Steve was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re the best hacker I know-”

“-the only hacker you know-”

“-and I trust you,” he finishes, giving you a stern look. It took a few more minutes of convincing, but you finally caved. You just couldn’t say no to Steve Rogers, and the bastard fucking knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

“You really don’t have to do this.”

I pause for a moment to stare incredulously at the man next to me. He eyes me warily, tugging at the sleeve of the hoodie he's in. 

“James, if you say that to me one more goddamn time…” you say through gritted teeth. 

It's been three months since we got out of the states. First Canada, then Iceland, then Greenland, then Denmark, Ireland, Wales, and now Austria. 

I still wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea. We were being hunted: the last three cities we'd been in less than a week before some HYDRA mercenary or another found us. Not being tactically trained meant that I’ve been relying entirely on Bucky to protect me, and I had more than enough cuts and bruises to show how little use I was in a fight. 

But I had to keep going. I couldn't let Steve down. So here I am, standing outside a Muesli shop in Vienna, waiting for a contact to show with credentials for Bucky and I. 

“I'm just saying. I can take care of myself,” Bucky grumbles. He reaches out with his flesh hand to hold onto the cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him. 

“I'm sure you can,” I reply, wondering how many times we're going to have this conversation. I sip my own coffee, eyes scanning the crowd around us. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the familiar lanky form of Jonathan.

I jump up, ignoring the way Bucky bristles as Jonathan makes his way over to us. He’s grinning, and he envelopes me in a tight hug. He drops a kiss to my head.

“Hello, love,” he says, grinning down at me. I offer him the third chair at the table, sinking down into my own. I smile at Jonathan when he reaches over and grabs my hand. 

“I was so glad you reached out to me,” he says, relief flooding his words. I grimace, knowing that I had been pronounced missing and presumed dead in the fall of SHIELD. 

“I'm glad you responded,” I reply, squeezing his hand. Jonathan chuckles. 

“Anything for my favorite hacker.”

I flush under his gaze, then realize that Bucky’s been sitting silently next to me during our entire exchange when he coughs. I glance over at him, pulling my hand out of Jonathan's. 

“Bucky, this is Jonathan.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, his way of a greeting. Jonathan nods, always the respectable Englishman. Then Bucky opens his mouth. 

“You sure we can trust this guy?” he mutters loud enough for both of us to hear. I glare and start to tell Bucky off, but Jonathan holds up a hand.  

“I'll just give you what you need and be on my way,” Jonathan says, pulling a large manila envelope out of his jacket.  He hands it to me and I peek inside. I see half a dozen passports, a stack of credit cards, and cash from at least four different countries. There's also a red velvet box and a smaller envelope.  

“Thanks for this, Jon. You have no idea,” I say, smiling up at him. He nods, a sad smile on his face. 

“Just promise you'll be careful,” he says, hand reaching out to grasp mine one more time. I nod, unexplainable tears in my eyes. 

We stand and he embraces me again, pressing a long kiss to my temple. 

“If you need anything else, darling,” he whispers against my skin. I nod, clearing my throat. And then he's gone, leaving me to sink back down into my chair and tug my coffee back over to me.

“How long?”

I look over at Bucky, meeting his gaze. I clear my throat again, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on my coffee cup. 

“We were on assignment together for a year in Yemen. He's MI6.”

Bucky nods. “So were you just fucking?”

My eyes snap to his in a glare. 

“Not that it's any of your business, but no.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What happened?” he asks, and I bristle. 

“We're not having this conversation,” I hiss, standing. I tuck the envelope under my arm and grab my coffee before turning on my heel and heading across the street.


	3. Chapter 3

**Six Years Ago**

“God, I love you,” Jonathan moans into my hair. I gasp as his hips snap against mine, his length sliding in to the hilt. His pace is slow, a languid roll of the hips that doesn't fit how the rest of our relationship is.

“I love - ah - you, too,” I whisper, my legs instinctively dropping further apart for him. My hands come up to wrap around his shoulders, the ring on my left hand glinting in the low light of the room.

Jonathan’s face lifts from the crook of my neck, his mouth brushing against mine in an open mouthed kiss.

“I can’t wait for you to be my wife,” he breathes across my chin, nose bumping mine. I giggle into his mouth, hooking a leg around his hips and gasping when he’s able to push deeper inside me.

“Ask me again,” I encourage. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he props himself up on one elbow, his hips still rolling.

“My beautiful Y/N,” he begins, hand brushing the hair from my damp forehead. “I love you. I will always love you.”

I sigh, eyes falling closed as he lays his cheek next to mine. The arm not holding him up drifts down my side, his long fingers brushing my clit. I moan, arching my back into his touch.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he continues, licking at the shell of my ear. “I want to build a home with you. I want to give you children, and I want to raise a family with you. I want to grow old with you.” I cry out softly as I feel the beginnings of my orgasm building, and Jonathan pulls up to watch my face.

“Will you be my wife?” he whispers. His lips catch on mine as I shudder in his embrace, choking out a sob. “Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper. I feel myself fall apart, my walls clenching tightly around Jonathan’s length. He doesn’t last much longer, moaning against my throat as his hips still. I feel him pouring into me and I find I cannot let go of him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks. His mouth finds mine, his tongue swirling around my own as he gently pulls out of me. He doesn’t go far, tugging me into his side as he drapes a leg over mine. We’re asleep within minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

I hardly speak to Bucky for the rest of the day. He doesn’t apologize and neither do I, both of us settling for tense silence instead. It works for us. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as I go through the envelope when we’re safely locked in the flat we’re squatting in. I sit on the mildewy mattress in the middle of the room and neatly pull everything out, making stacks according to country.

We have Passports from Israel, the UK, and Germany. There’s two credit cards a piece for each of those countries, plus cash from a half a dozen other countries. I almost lost it when I opened the velvet box. Inside was a simple set of wedding rings  (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/ATRs_TI4q7HWH-KK7OB_8qfobYFaIUmAETmJiB-uldFHsc5Gkj0ouhM/) , and I suspected the smaller envelope had marriage licenses. I was right.

I carefully split the cash, putting half in my pack and half in Bucky’s. I walked past him long enough to drop his passport in his lap. He looked up as I held out the wedding band. 

“We’re fake married,” I mutter, avoiding his eyes as he takes the ring from me. He looks at his left hand, free from the glove he’d been wearing, then up at me. 

“Don’t think it’s gonna fit,” he replies, tossing it back to me. I manage to catch it as it hits my chest, then drop it back into his lap.

“Don’t care,” I growl. I ignore him as I walk back over to the mattress, shimmying out of my jeans before dropping down on the mattress and tugging the sleeping bag over me. 

“Wake me up at five,” I call. Bucky grunts in response and I roll my eyes before closing them and falling into a fitful sleep.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Six Years Ago**

 

I’m perfectly warm when I wake up. The light is soft, the netting around the bed diffusing it. When I open my eyes Jonathan is looking at me. 

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs. I groan, curling forward to bury my face in his neck. He chuckles deep in his chest, holding me as I press kisses against his warm skin. 

“You need to shave,” I say, voice cracking. Jonathan pulls away enough to eye me, one brow raised. “I thought you liked the stubble,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my nose. I smile, brushing the tip of it against his chin. It feels a bit like sandpaper and I sigh.

“While I know how to appreciate you in all of your rugged manliness, we both know how General Armstrong feels about it.” 

Jonathan groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Well, that’s one way to make my morning wood go away,” he says, and I giggle. “And here I was, planning on putting it to good use.”

I smirk, throwing a leg over his hips. “Anything I can do to convince it to come back?” I ask, rolling my hips to make my point. He moans, his length sliding through my slick as his hands come up to grasp my rear. 

“I don't think it'll be too difficult of a negotiation,” he murmurs.

Two hours later we're headed into a tent in the middle of the desert. The hot wind beats at the canvas sides, loud in my ears. 

“It's about damn time,” General Armstrong growls from his position at the back of the tent. He's a short, broad man, the type you can tell was a fighter in his day. Even now, gray and wrinkled, I wouldn't want to come to blows with him. 

“Our apologies, General. We were up late last night celebrating,” Jonathan says. I flush when he grabs my hand, positioning it so the general can see the glint of my engagement ring. His eyes flash to it and he softens for a moment. 

“Well, get your asses over here so we can brief you on this drop,” he grunts. Jonathan and I exchange smiles as we walk over to the computers sitting propped open on the desk. Armstrong looks at me as I sit, then claps a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. 

“I'm usually not one to get all mushy, but ya snagged a good one, kid. Don't break her heart.”

I can't help but smile up at Jonathan as I position my hands over the keyboard. 

“Don't worry, General. I wouldn't dream of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

I wake with a start, unaware of my surroundings for a moment. The smell of mildew and sweat brings me back to the flat in Vienna. 

I realize suddenly that I'm unbearably hot. I roll over to find myself face to face with Bucky. I gasp, pulling back. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, loosening his grip enough for me to slip out of it. “You looked cold.”

I relax, turning around to look at him. “S’okay,” I whisper. He let's me lay back down, shifting onto his back as I roll onto my side. I look at his profile, thinking back to the first night we actually shared a bed. 

**_Two Months Ago_ **

_ This situation is exactly what I was afraid of. We’re in Denmark, in a little town outside of Copenhagen called Dragor. We’d taken shelter in an abandoned boathouse when it happened: I caught pneumonia. And we’re not talking a light case, either. Fever, chills, hacking and coughing, the whole shebang.  _

_ At first, I thought Bucky was going to just ditch me. Call it quits, admit that I was slowing him down, and just walk out one night. He did, walk out that is. I laid there, bundled under a mound of stolen blankets, coughing up a lung for hours. I was about to give up and surrender to the cold when the door banged open. _

_ I watched with trepidation as Bucky walked over and started pulling things from his pack. I couldn't make most of them out, but I heard the distinct sound of pills being poured out and the snap of a water bottle opening.  _

_ Bucky walked over to me, dropping down on one knee as he held out his hand. I could make out a white pill pinched between his fingers and I looked at him warily.  _

_ “Antibiotics,” he says softly. I continue to look suspiciously between him and the pill until he huffs.  _

_ “Fine. Don't take them. Once you start to drown in your own fluids, you'll wish I had forced it down your throat.” _

_ You manage a weak glare but part mylips, letting him push the pill between them. He cups the back of my neck with his left hand as his right tips the water bottle against my lips. I manage to swallow that pill and a second one before I begin sputtering. I'm surprised when Bucky brushes my hair away from my sweaty forehead, his thumb brushing the skin behind my ear softly as I hack up an unbelievable amount of phlegm. He doesn't grimace and even wipes mymouth.  _

_ Then, as if that movement wasn't shocking enough, he shifts me forwards enough to slide between me and the wall the makeshift mattress is pushed up against. He pulls me into his chest and holds me there with his right arm. His metal hand grabs the water bottle and lifts it once again to my lips.  _

_ “Drink,” he instructs, hot breath ghosting along my ear. I shudder, obeying as quickly as I can. The water feels amazing flowing down my raw throat, and I'm disappointed when I find it's all gone.  _

_ Bucky tosses the empty water bottle into the corner of the boathouse and wraps both arms around my waist. His chin rests on the crown of my head, and I melt into the warmth before falling asleep. _

“Take a picture, doll. It’ll last longer.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes as I shift onto my back. I stare at the rotting ceiling for a moment before I scrunch my eyebrows, thinking maybe I’d misheard.

“Did you just call me ‘doll’?” I ask, rolling my head to look at Bucky. He shrugs.

“So what if I did?” he mumbles. I stare at him, eyes wide. After a few seconds his eyes drop back over to mine and he glares.

“ _ What? _ ” he demands through gritted teeth. 

“It’s just,” you start, rolling to prop yourself up on one elbow. “Steve called me that - doll. He said it was an old timey thing when I pointed it out. He said he picked it up from you.”

We stare each other down, neither of us wanting to make the first move. Finally the silence gets to be too much. 

“How much do you remember?” I ask softly, picking at a loose thread in the sleeping bag we’re laying on. Bucky doesn’t answer, just looks at me warily. I shake my head, laying back down.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I mutter, rolling onto my side. I stare at the wall at the opposite side of the room, cursing my weakness for Steve. Damn him for exploiting it. 

I’ve closed my eyes again when I hear Bucky speak in a whisper. 

“I remember Steve,” he says, pausing while I roll over. I watch him with my head pillowed on my arm.

“I remember that we were close,” he continues once I’m situated. His hands rest on his chest and I see the one closest to me, the metal one, clench and unclench as his brow furrows.

“There was a little apartment, kind of like this one. I used to visit him there. I think I used to take care of him…” he trails off, eyes flicking around the ceiling as he tries in vain to remember more. He grits his teeth in frustration as angry tears spring to his eyes and his chest starts to heave.

Before I realize what I’m doing I’m hovering over him, my hand on his stubble-rough cheek. “Hey, wherever you’re going, don’t,” I  say, my thumb coming around to cup his chin. Bucky’s eyes don’t meet mine and I can see the Soldat coming out, so I do the only thing I can think of and swing a leg over his hips, straddling his waist as I lean over him.

“Stay here, Bucky,” I plead, leaning over him with both hands on his face. His eyes meet mine and I see some of the life come back into them. His breathing slows as his blue eyes flicker between mine and I feel relief wash over me. I’d had to deal with the Soldat several times and each one was more nerve wracking than the last.

I become aware of the position I’m in when I feel Bucky’s hands on my hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into my skin. The shift in the air is sudden as we hold eye contact, and I’m painfully aware of his body under mine. My core is pressed up against his stomach and I feel the muscles contract, creating a delicious friction that almost makes me whine in my throat. I see Bucky’s eyes dilate when I start to soak through my panties and my eyes go wide when his hands move up to my waist.

I can’t help the squeak that escapes when he flips us, my legs still hooked around him. He grinds down experimentally, both of us gasping at the rub of his clothed cock against my core. He does it again, watching me closely as I arch my back, whining. I know we shouldn’t, that part of me would be taking advantage, but the way his fingers are digging into my hips and his eyes are boring into mine and his lips are slightly parted makes me not care.

“Please,” I whisper, my hands sliding up his chest. My fingers curl into his collar and I pull him down to me, our lips crashing in a clash of teeth and tongues. He growls into my mouth, hips rolling into mine. The rhythm is uneven, his movements frantic, so I urge him onto his back. He pulls me back on top of him, sitting up so that he can tug his shirt off. 

My eyes are drawn to his shoulder and he flushes under my gaze, flinching slightly when I reach up to run my finger along the scarring where flesh meets metal. 

“Does it hurt?” I ask, my eyes meeting his. His eyes narrow and I feel his fingers flex on my hips.

“Sometimes,” he admits quietly. I feel tears spring to my eyes and I slide my hand up to the side of his neck, just holding it as I roll my hips once. 

"Tell me,” I whisper, looping my arm around his flesh shoulder as I continue to roll my hips. He leans forward enough to catch me in another kiss, his teeth nipping at my lower lip before pulling back again.

“It feels like fire,” he begins, grunting when I deepen the roll of my hips. I gasp into his mouth when the zip of his jeans nudges my clit, and I buck against him. His hands go to my ass, each one grabbing a cheek and kneading, urging my hips to roll faster. My fingers go up to tangle in his hair, my mouth finding his again. He licks his way between my lips as I grind harder and faster, and soon I can feel my belly start to tighten.

“Are you close?” I whisper, nose bumping Bucky’s cheek as I curl into his neck. He hums an affirmative, eyes pinching closed as I lay kisses down his neck. His flesh hand slips under my shirt, his blunt nails digging into my back and I feel myself come undone as he drags them down my back. 

I whine into the flesh of his neck, my mouth drifting down to the pink, crisscrossed seam. Bucky shouts when my tongue lavs over it, pulling my core harder into his lap and stilling. I feel a new flood of wet heat between my legs and I groan, burying my face in Bucky’s throat. We collapse back against the mattress, neither of us moving as we catch our breath.

Once my breathing slows I roll off of Bucky, moving to stand. I stop when he grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him. 

“We should get cleaned up,” I giggle, gesturing to the messes between our legs. Bucky just shakes his head, tugging me into his chest. I resist until I see the look in his eyes, the one that’s begging to be touched like that again: not to hurt, but to hold. 

“Okay, Bucky,” I whisper, sliding down into the sleeping bag. He rolls onto his side, pulling me into his chest. I press kisses to it, smiling when I feel the soft rumble of a contented sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

**Six Years Ago**

 

Incessant beeping.

That’s what wakes me. I’m confused, mostly because I don’t remember going to sleep. I try to open my eyes and find it’s much more difficult than it should be. When they finally do open I have to squint against the harsh light shining down on me. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, and when they do I realize I’m lying in the field hospital. I try to sit up but a sharp pain in my hip prevents it. I look around, relieved to see Jonathan sitting at the left of my bed.

My eyes fill with tears when they meet his, seeing that he has his wallet out. He’s holding a picture of us. 

“What happened?” I manage, my voice a harsh croak. 

He rushes forward, dropping the wallet and photo on the edge of the bed as he reaches for me. I lean into his touch, my eyes drifting closed as his thumb rubs gently against my temple.

“There was an explosion, love,” Jonathan says, his voice thick with unshed tears. I look up at him, confused.

“In our meeting with General Armstrong?” I ask, trying to remember. The last thing I can recall is confirming the location for the drop. 

Jonathan shakes his head, eyes flitting around my face. 

“No, sweetheart. After, when you were in the transport,” he whispers. 

“Jonathan, I don’t - I can’t-” I start, my choking on my panic. Jonathan shushes me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Quiet, my love. Let me just go get the doctor, okay?” he whispers. I nod, trying to breathe. 

I somehow manage to calm myself down in the minute or so it takes Jonathan to get the doctor. She's probably a few years older than me and looks exhausted. But she walks over to me nonetheless, taking my vitals and asking me how I feel. 

I can tell there's something she's dreading telling me by the way she sits on the edge of the bed. The look in her eyes is one of pure pity. I look to Jonathan and find it to be far less reassuring than I thought. He has tears in his eyes and he's swallowing thickly. 

“Please just tell me what's going on,” I whisper, my throat tightening. The doctor sighs, folding her hands in her lap.

“Y/N, you were involved in an explosion while on your way to rendezvous for a scheduled drop,” she starts softly, giving me a moment to process. I nod softly, swallowing around the lump of dread in my throat. 

“You sustained some very serious injuries. You have a collapsed lung, a concussion, a fractured orbital socket, and several broken ribs. You also had some internal bleeding that we were able to stop.”

I look at her, my brows furrowed. How can I not remember any of this?

“Y/N, there's something else. I need you to stay calm for me, okay?” 

I nod slowly, suddenly unable to breathe. I know what she's going to say before she says it. 

“I'm afraid that you suffered extensive damage to your lower abdomen. Shrapnel from the bomb entered your body and lodged itself in your right ovary. We tried to save the left, but there was too much bleeding. I'm so sorry.”

She grasps my hand, squeezing it as I try to process what she's saying. I look to Jonathan but he has his back to me. I can see his shoulders shaking and for a moment I find that  _ I _ want to console  _ him _ . 

“Jonathan,” I whisper, reaching out to him. He turns when he hears his name, striding over to me and taking my hand. 

“This doesn’t change anything, Y/n,” he says, kissing my knuckles. I nod, biting my lip. I taste blood and feel the sting of what I can only assume is a cut reopening. 

“I still love you, and I still want you to be my wife,” he insists, leaning up to kiss me. I nod, my hand tangling in his hair as Jonathan lays his head on my chest. 


End file.
